


Key to Donna, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s07e13 The Cold, F/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-29
Updated: 2009-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh picks up the key on that fateful night...





	Key to Donna, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Josh's POV:

Donna's room is on the third floor but I swear the elevator ride has never felt this long. My mouth has gone dry thinking about the moment that is about to be. My brains cells scramble trying to come up with something suitable to say when she opens the door to her room. I feel my skin itch and my ears hum in anticipation.   
I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair, shaking my head. If I wasn't so terrified and so goddamn on the edge of my seat I'd have my usual smirk on my face, but I feel like jolts of lightning are bouncing off my skin, like I'm radiating nuclear heat and my stomach is doing more somersaults than an olympic gymnast - Donna, sweet, beautiful, feisty, sexy, delicious Donna is about to invite me into her room, into her life in a way I've subconsciously hoped she would, wished she could for, god, I don't even know how long anymore. This isn't easy Amy, all wisecracks and fucking. This isn't Mandy, who just flung herself at me as fast as she dumped my ass with a withering look and a swift comeback. Donna is a rival I can't begin to comprehend. She and I have danced around this for years upon years and I can't quip back with a wisecrack - that's too easy. Donna is caring and nurturing. Donna sees my vulnerable side. Donna doesn't need to be loud and glaring to get my attention. Donna has reached into recesses of my soul that - not having been able to act upon them physically - have only made the ties between us stronger than with any woman I've ever met before. While I bantered loosely with Amy and joked about her women's lib, Donna would come to me in the late nights, worrying about my PTSD, making sure I had aspirin, listened to me talk about my father, grinned at me without mocking or superiority, shared that bond of trust that came after Rosslyn. Amy wouldn't even know how to get to me on that level, and I'd never have wanted her there.   
Mandy? well, she was just psycho.

Donna is the apple Eve offered Adam: luscious, inviting, sweet, life-affirming and oh, so very, very forbidden. 

*DING*

The elevator comes to a stop. I step out, overcoat draped over my arm, tie loose, blue shirt hanging out and crumpled. I probably look like shit. I shake my head one more time, rub my eyes and rumple my hair and start to make my way down the hall with what I hope looks like my usual cocky swagger.

Room 314. 

I stand for a moment, unsure what to do with my own body. My mouth feels like sandpaper. My guts have pooled somewhere around my feet and everything fits too tightly on me. This is it... 

*KNOCK KNOCK*

A few seconds go by and the earth revolves a few hundred times on its axis. 

The door opens. Donna's standing there, still in her skirt, but her shoes are off and she's pulled the cashmere sweater out from her skirt and its sort of slightly hanging off one shoulder, leaving her pale skin exposed underneath. I can see the faintest outline of her bra underneath and my groin tightens at the thought of touching her. Finally. I lean one arm up against the door frame and swallow. I'm completely speechless so opt for my raised eyebrows, curious look, but I can't help a soft dimple-grin at the sight of her. She's breath-taking.

\"Hey...\" I say softly, smiling ever-so-slightly from the corner of my mouth. My eyes lose themselves in hers.

\"You came...\" She states matter-of-factly, looking up at me with a soft grin.

\"Yeah...\" I simply reply. \"You...ah... you left your key\" I pull the offending item out of my pocket and hold it up to her. \"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to.. you know... give it back.. or ... whatever...\"I trail off. She's simply smiling at me, biting her lip. I feel rooted to the spot like my legs are made of concrete.

\"Thanks... I thought maybe...we could, you know...\" She reaches out and closes her soft hand over mine, around the key, sending a thrashing jolt of electricity right throught the core of me and the concrete breaks loose and I lose all sense of anything.

\"Donna...\" I whisper breathlessly, pushing my way in through the door and dropping my overcoat on the floor as I reach my other arm to loop itself around her small waist.

\"Josh... I...\" She doesn't get to finish her sentence before I push her into the wall and press my lips to hers. Holy mother...My whole body explodes.

Donna's POV:

Is he going to follow? Am I going to sit here on the edge of my bed, petrified and excited and confused and fizzing with anticipation all evening? Have I just blown it? I get up and put off one light, opting for the soft bedside lamp. Then I decide its too soft and switch again. Should I get changed into something different? What's the protocol here? THe lights still don't look right. Is lighting a candle too obvious?   
I'm fidgeting. I'm usually pretty practical as a person, but tonight I don't know where my head is at all. Well, that's a lie. My head has only been in one place for the last month or so, - ok the last eight years or so - and the last few days I've been orbiting Lyman-land in a state of near constant delirium.   
How many nights have I dreamt of hearing his fingers knock on my door? How many nights have we stayed up til three, on the floor of his office in the soft glow of his computer, too comfortably half asleep in each other's presence, poring over statistics and reports, finishing each others sentences with our knees barely touching and too, too many unspoken aches and needs flying around in the atmosphere between our bodies?  
And that look he gave me this evening. Blatant, urging lust. Like he was eating me up with his eyes. I thought I was going to burn a hole in the floor. I have to do this. We have to do this. The need between us has become to much to bear.

I slip off my shoes and pull my sweater out from my skirt. I'm still pacing about the room, brushing my hair when I hear the knock and freeze to the spot. A jungle's worth of butterflies takes up residence in the pit of my belly and my fingers begin to tremble. My whole body temperature hikes up twenty notches. I drop the brush on the bed and walk over to the door. He's here!!! My smile could block out the sun.

I peep through the spyhole and blush inwardly as I see his face. He's looking at his hands, his face so soft but his mouth taught, like he gets when he's nervous. He looks like he's about to knock again when I open the door.

I am completely in love with this man. 

His blue shirt is all crumpled, he looks dishevelled and cocky and beautiful. I crave him. His arms, his hands, his mouth, his eyes, his skin. 

He leans up against the door and I do my absolute best to look nonchalant. I'm not very convincing.

\"Hey...\" He says with a soft grin.

\"You came...\" I answer. Stating the obvious. Very cool... I say it mostly to remind myself its true.

\"Yeah...\" He simply replies. \"You...ah... you left your key\" He pulls the key and chain out of his pocket and holds it up to me. \"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to.. you know... give it back.. or ... whatever...\" He trails off. He's bumbling. I'd say this was adorable if I wasn't so consumed with how devastatingly sexy he looks right now. If I wasn't bowled over with the overt sexual energy pulsating in the space between us. His shirt is slightly open, he smells of whisky, coffee, cologne and sweat, his eyes are bright with desire.

\"Thanks...\" I answer, grinning shamelessly now, \"I thought maybe...we could, you know...\" DO I make the first move? What's... I reach up to take the key and wrap my fingers around his. A million volts discharge against my fingertips and nearly knock me over. 

He leans in with a wild look in his eyes. Pushing me back and dropping his coat on the floor.

\"Donna...\" I love how much he needs me in his voice. His arm reaches around me and pulls me in. He's rock hard against my belly and I barely have a moment to exhale \"Josh...\" before he pushes me against the wall, his hot, taut body pressed against mine and his lips on my mouth as we both reach out to kick the door closed.

We're not in Texas anymore. We're not in the States. Hell, we're not on this earth. I'm a million, million miles above the sky. This must be what your first smack high feels like.


End file.
